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24
There are choices we all make on a regular basis. Some lead us to paths we desire: Success. Happiness. Others drop us into the unknown. The endless abyss with no way of escaping. Even by reading a single word of the previous paragraph, you've made a choice. A choice to understand. A choice to not mentally replace every word with obnoxious fart noises. I pray that you now comprehend my mistakes so that you can make the right choice. So that you don't become fated to doom like me. It was a nippy February afternoon, like so many before it. I had just sat down to play my favorite (by virtue of being the only) lego-based online game, ROBLOX. It had become an escape from daily life, away from homework, nagging parents, and other responsibilities. To me, it was safety. As I loaded the homepage of the massively multiplayer online game creation platform that allows users to design their own games and play a wide variety of different types of games created by the developer or other users, I noticed something odd. I was logged out. Initially, I thought nothing of it and went to enter my username in the username box and my password in the password box. I clicked enter and instead of being greeted with the overwhelming beauty of my virtual visage, it booted me back to the log in screen "Your username or password is incorrect," it said in a red box. "Please check them and try again." In hindsight, my fat fingers may have accidentally pressed the wrong key. I was too antsy to get started playing one of the many high school or menial labor simulators, so I went to "Forgot Password or Username". Within minutes, I recovered my password and set to enjoy another fun-filled afternoon of clicking buttons. But something got in the way, like the festering stench of month-old salami. I had been following a game development group called "blockage" for a while now. Something about the aura of the simplistic green brick logo called to me, and instinctively I followed, curious what great works this collective might birth from their corpulent grey matter. They had just released a new game on ROBLOX called "24: a creepy story". As much as I wanted to give it a try, I was wary, to say the least. See, I'm what you might call a "creepypasta lover". If there were any kind of spooky story on the web, I've probably read it. Things like Jeff the Killer, Smile Dog, Russian Sleep Experiment, and even Et Cetera, these are the things I live for. So I did what any sensible person did, I clicked on a new page as soon as I could. After all, the protagonists in those stories did reckless things and threw caution to the wind, and for their troubles, they were murdered or had their minds scarred beyond belief. But not me, I was smart. By not going on that game, this "creepy story", I knew I'd be avoiding a terrible fate. Little did I know, that was the biggest mistake I'd ever make in my entire life. It started innocuously enough. For some reason, the clock on my computer read "14:24". At some point, it changed itself to 24 hour time, which is odd since I, your average American, have no idea how to read it. Whatever, I'll change it in a bit, I told myself, after I get into my favorite game. There was a problem. Cruising the popular places, I couldn't find it. I knew it had something to do with pizza, but what specifically did you have to do with it? Escape the pizza? Eat the pizza? Live in a pizza? Be the pizza? I turned my head to the window to grind the gears of my brain when I noticed something on the roof of a nearby house. It was a silhouette. Tall, lanky, and black. The outline was a deep crimson that burned into my eyes. Please, look away, look away, that's all I wanted to do but I couldn't. The humming of white static surrounded me. What was it doing there? What... What is it trying to tell me? The rhythmic ticking of footsteps soon entered my earhole. As I turned my head away from the window I saw my slobbering animal companion, Sir... My stomach dropped. I forgot my dog's name. But that can't be it. That's impossible. How could I forget my favorite (by virtue of being the only) pet's name? I can only remember it possibly being related to something it did all the time. But what do dogs do all the time, and what sort of name could I derive from it? "Sir Sniffbutt, what's wrong?" I call out but the mutt does nothing in response. It does dog things, like sitting and, well, smelling its own rear end, but eventually, it leaves. Did I get the name wrong? I sound out the name, Sir Sniffbutt. It doesn't sound right. I try some other combinations, Sir Buttsniff, Sniffy Da Butt, Robutt Sniffington, Snifficus Butticus, but each one leaves a horrible taste in my mouth like I'd been drinking pure mercury out of a twisty straw. The weird part was that it didn't even see me. My precious dog, whom I've spent countless years with, didn't even recognize me. That's impossible, that can't be. I kept telling that to myself, gripping onto the spaghetti strands that remained of my sanity. A thought occurred to me. "I know," I spoke to myself, "I'll just call one of my friends." Once I tell them about what happened, maybe everything will go away. I pulled out my phone and opened up the phone app. I started by typing in the area code, but couldn't recall what to put after. In fact, I couldn't even remember what friends I could call. What friends do I have? Good thing I have a list of contacts saved. I swiped to the right and pressed a random saved number. The tone booped for a while, and someone answered. "Hello?" "Uhh, hi," I say. I'm nervous, even though this person is supposed to be my friend. "Oh..." The person trails off. "Who is this?" "It's me." "Me?" "Yeah." "Well... uh... i-if you're calling about my ducts, I already got them cleaned." "Wh-wait hold on." "And could you please take your number off your list. Thanks." Click. The line goes dead. I stood there, still holding my phone up to my ear. Why didn't they recognize me? What could I have said to make them recognize me? The tone coming from the phone drilled into my brain. It got louder, more corrupt, burning the air itself. I turned and I saw the figure. It was black, colorless, like from what I saw on the roof of the nearby house. But now I could see a red mist where its head would be. "ＴＨＥＪＯＨＮＣＥＮＡＦＡＮ２４" the creature boomed. "ＹＯＵ　ＨＡＶＥ　ＣＯＭＭＩＴＴＥＤ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＭＥＭＯＲＹ　ＴＯ　ＴＨＥ　ＭＡＣＨＩＮＥ" "What?" I boisterously questioned. "What does that even mean?" "ＡＦＴＥＲ　ＳＥＶＥＮ ＤＡＹＳ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＢＯＤＹ　ＷＩＬＬ　ＢＥ　ＮＡＵＧＨＴ　ＢＵＴ　Ａ　ＨＵＳＫ　ＤＥＶＯＩＤ　ＯＦ ＴＨＯＵＧＨＴ．　ＥＶＥＲＹＴＨＩＮＧ　ＹＯＵ ＷＥＲＥ　ＡＮＤ　ＲＥＭＥＭＢＥＲ　ＷＩＬＬ　ＢＥ　ＴＲＡＮＳＦＥＲＥＤ ＡＷＡＹ ＳＯ ＴＨＡＴ　ＩＴ　ＭＡＹ　ＢＥ　ＵＴＩＬＩＺＥＤ　ＭＯＲＥ　ＥＦＦＥＣＴＩＶＥＬＹ" "But I need my memories! Why would you do something like that?" Then the creature said something that shattered my mind, my perception of the world,　everything that I ever believed was true. "ＷＨＹ　ＳＨＯＵＬＤ　ＷＥ　ＬＩＳＴＥＮ ＴＯ ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ　ＴＨＡＴ　ＣＯＵＬＤ　ＮＯＴ　ＥＶＥＮ　ＲＥＭＥＭＢＥＲ　ＴＨＥＩＲ　ＯＷＮ　ＰＡＳＳＷＯＲＤ" I stood in silence. It was right. As much as I wanted to deny it, as much as I wanted to prove that I needed what little remained of my dilapidated psyche, I couldn't muster the strength. The black figure dissipated, leaving me in my room. Alone. I hope you've learned a valuable lesson from all this. My time on this earth is short, fleeting, and running out. I will use these final moments not to be with family, although even if I wanted to we would not remember each other, and instead warn you, dear viewer, to never forget your password. And for the love of all that is holy, avoid the game "24: a creepy story" at all costs. Just gazing upon the thumbnail, or a suspiciously placed hyperlink in this very story, will mean it's already too late for you. Category:Games